


These Hallowed Halls We Roam

by rickandmortygetschwifty



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: All Rick and Morty characters are human, Alternate Universe- Supernatural Elements, Epistolary, Fictional Small Town Location, Ghost Rick, Ghosts, Grandfather/Grandson Incest, Incest, Location Change, M/M, Multimedia, Paranormal Mystery, Slow Burn, Small-Town Murder Mystery, ghost au, slow build romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-14 02:18:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11773440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rickandmortygetschwifty/pseuds/rickandmortygetschwifty
Summary: The news of the murder of Beth's estranged father sends the Smith family across the country, to a tiny,insignificant town in the middle of nowhere. But not all is what it seems in this seemingly sleepy town: Morty Smith's soon caught in its tangled web of deceit and mystery, and between the town's strange history with the occult, the locals' dirty little secrets, and the creeping sounds of footsteps that echo in the night, he might have reason to believe his grandfather isn't as dead as everyone thinks he is.





	1. Prologue: The Man Who Woke the Sleeping Town

_“Where are you going, mom?”_

_“Just turning off the lights, dear. It’s time for you to sleep.”_

_“Wait, Mom! Don’t go. I want to listen to a story please.”_

_“Oh, I thought you didn’t want to listen to any more of those. Didn’t you tell me you were a big boy now, and you didn’t need my stories to go to sleep?”_

_“I know I said that, but I miss it now. I want to listen to more stories. You tell the best stories, Mom. Dad can’t compete with you.”_

_“Hey now, don’t tell your father you said that, silly. You know how he is. What kind of story do you want? Something with pirates? Or maybe a knight fighting three-headed dragons? Or maybe an outer space adventure—”_

_“No, no, no! I don’t want no stinking fairy tales. I’m tired of that. I’m nine years old, mom. Tell me a different kind of story.”_

_“Alright, alright… you want something more grown-up? How about a spooky story?”_

_“NOOOOOOO! No scary stories, I’m going to sleep after this!”_

_“Well, dear, I’m at the end of the rope here. What kind of story do you want?”_

_“Something… real. Like… a story that I could see actually happen to me. Like a story that could happen in the real world.”_

_“A ‘real’ story? Hmmm. That’s a toughie. There’s a lot of ways to use ‘real,’ and a lot of people mean different things when they use that word.”_

_“Mom, it doesn’t matter. I just want a real story. Can you tell the story or not?”_

_“Hmm… yes. I know exactly the right story to tell you. But can you promise me one thing?”_

_“What is it?”_

_“Promise me you’ll listen very closely. Promise me you’ll pay attention. I won’t tell this story twice.”_

_“Um. Sure?”_

_“…There once was an unremarkable town; beautiful in its own right, but slow and mundane. It was a place that seeped with culture and history, but it was often overshadowed by the allure of busy nearby cities. It wasn’t until the arrival of a man who was not-so-unremarkable, who had travelled to and from distant lands and had an air of confidence and peculiarity about him, when this tranquil town awakened from its long slumber. It was then, when this man stood at the crossroads and decided to settle down in this seemingly unremarkable place, that our story begins…”_

* * *

 

“Is there anything else to do here? I’m boreeeeed. Morty, are you bored too?”

Morty was stuck in the Earthly equivalent of Limbo.

“I’m so hungry. We should’ve packed something.”

Or maybe this was the undiscovered tenth circle of Hell. If this wasn't classified as cruel and unusual punishment, something must be seriously wrong with people. Whoever thought that it was perfectly normal to subject living beings to this horror for hours on end was a certified psychopath.

“Hey, Morty. Let’s play a game. I spy with my little eye—”

 The Smiths were trapped in a ~~cramped tin can~~  airplane thousands of feet high, forced to sit through a bumpy ride for what seemed like a small eternity. The passengers were rude, the crew were even ruder, and the airline food certainly lived up to its reputation. The air in the cabin smelled like it had been recycled a thousand times. There were mysterious stains covering the itchy and ancient cloth seats they were forced to sit on. The seats’ legroom seemed like it was designed for hobbits.

Minus their abnormally large feet.

“How do you think birds know when to fly south for the winter? Do they have some sort of built-in timer?”

The Smith family were only four of the more than eight million people who fly every day. Hardly anything noteworthy about that. What made it a little more special for them is that it was their first time flying together. It meant that the family’s whole experience, from arriving at the airport to catching a glimpse of the plane, was an entirely new and delightful adventure for them.

At first.

“Morty, do they have Wi-Fi on this plane? Can you ask them for the password?”

It also meant that the Smiths (and one member of the family in particular) were ill-equipped to last the entire journey without succumbing to boredom.

“What time are we going to get there? Wait, seriously? I could’ve sworn we’ve been here longer…”

Morty Smith was close to committing homicide.

“—the wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round—”

And his first victim might just be his own dad.

“—all through the town!”

Morty’s eye twitched.

Summer ripped off her earphones and glared at her father in frustration. “Will you cut that out, Dad, we’re not even in a car. Isn’t it bad enough we’re stuck on a 7-hour flight in Economy class? Give us a break!”

Jerry shrugged, looking at his irritated daughter sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I’m just bored.”

“W-we’re all bored, dad,” Morty added, sighing. “I-I-I lost all feeling in my legs two hours ago, I’ve eaten nothing but stale pretzels and peanuts today, a-a-and there’s this kid behind me who won’t stop kicking my seat _”_ —he turned to glare at the aforementioned toddler, who only grinned maniacally and resumed his attack—“n-not to mention that we’ve been listening to you blabber on a-a-about how excited y-you are for this trip. W-we get it, okay? We know y-y-you think we’re overdue for a family vacation.”

“I can’t help it, I’m just so excited! When was the last time we really got together as a family?” Jerry fished out his tablet, scrolling through his music library in a bid to occupy his time. He didn’t seem to mind the cramped seats, nor the constant screams of the baby two rows behind them one bit. “Isn’t this a prime opportunity for family bonding time? We’re only going to be there for a few weeks. We can relax, go shopping, go sightseeing, take a few pictures…”

“Well, when you consider the real nature of this trip, I think calling it ‘a prime opportunity for family bonding time’ is in really poor taste,” Summer remarked. “Even if she doesn’t look like she’s paying attention, mom can hear you perfectly well.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry about that, honey. I, er, didn’t mean to disrespect your father like that.” Jerry glanced hesitantly at Beth, who had been staring out the window in despondency. She was tight-lipped since they got on the plane, and only gave one-word answers every time she was addressed. Morty could practically feel her dejection wafting off of her in heavy waves. Even Jerry’s corny jokes and enthusiasm, which always gets a few chuckles out of Beth, seemed to dampen her mood even more.

“It’s okay, Jerry,” Beth mumbled, barely looking at him.  Satisfied, her husband returned his attention back to his tablet.

If Morty didn’t feel so awkward talking to his mom about it he might have found a way to comfort her.  But how was he supposed to bring up his grandfather when he’d never even met the guy? Sure, his mom mentioned him once or twice, but aside from a few strange anecdotes from her childhood (that he may or may not believe; who the hell sets his own garage on fire three times in one week?), he knew next to nothing about him. There was nothing Morty could say to take away his mother’s grief.

This trip was supposed to give Beth some closure. To make her feel closer to the father she never met. But in Morty’s opinion, it’d just do more harm than good.

“Hey!” Jerry lit up, showing off his tablet to his two unamused children. “Human Music, I love this band! How’d I forget that I downloaded their album?” He clicked on the icon, filling the cabin with the tinny music of the band’s song. The man directly in front of Jerry immediately turned around and glared at him through the gap between the seats.

“Geez, dad, can y-you not—” Morty hissed, frantically trying to quell his dad’s awful music.

“Turn it off!” Summer groaned.

“People are-are starting to look—”

“You’re embarrassing us—”

“P-please, th-there are other people here—”

“Dad!”

“Okay, okay! Sheesh. I’ll just do something else.” Jerry said, jerking the tablet out of Morty’s reach.

His son sighed in relief. “Thanks.”

“Ugh. Dad, sometimes you’re even more annoying than Mr. Snuffles after his bath—”

“Snowball,” Morty corrected his sister, placing a protective hand over the pet carrier packed under the seat in front of him. The white terrier inside the carrier stuck its cold nose through the bars of the door and sniffed his hand.

Summer rolled her eyes. “Morty, that dog neither knows nor cares that you changed its name. Whether or not it keeps the name from its old owners won’t make a difference.”

“Hey, d-d-don’t say that! Snowball i-is sensitive. I-I think he’ll appreciate a new name that-that doesn’t have any connections with his abusive owners!” Morty protested. “Can’t y-you just call him by his new name?”

“Fine. _Snowball_ is a shelter dog who got adopted at six years old. Being an adult dog at a shelter is like a death sentence. I think he’s grateful enough already. And now he gets to fly across the country with us?”

“He’s a member of the family, I-I-I had an agreement with dad to-to pay for his airline fees out o-o-of my own allowance— _will y-y-you fucking knock it off!?”_ Morty barked at the kid behind his seat. The child immediately quieted, and the woman beside him scowled at Morty.

Fucking spawn of Satan.

“Aaaaaand now my phone’s dead.” Summer grimaced at the darkened screen of her phone. “Can this day get any worse?”

“A-at least you’re on the other side. I-I’m sitting beside dad.” Morty jerked his thumb at his father, who had abandoned his music for a balloon popping game. “Besides, how much time do w-w-we have until we get there? I-I don’t think we’ll be stuck here long.”

“Actually, we’re going to land very soon,” A gruff voice said from above him. Morty looked up into the face of a flight attendant in a brilliant blue uniform. “Can you tell your dad to keep his table stowed and his seat upright?” Morty elbowed his father in response, causing Jerry to jerk in surprise and smile sheepishly at the attendant.

The lights in the cabin dimmed, causing the sunlight streaming in from the windows to seem even more luminous. The tiny, orange seatbelt sign above every row switched on, and the passengers coming back from a trip to the restroom hurried frantically to their seats to buckle up. The hum from the plane’s engines grew to a steady roar. Jerry looked like he was about to bounce out of his seat in excitement.

The speakers in the plane crackled to life, playing the catchy trademark jingle that always came before the captain's announcements.

“ _—bzzzzzzt— Hello, everyone, this is your captain speaking. We are now making a slow descent into airport airspace. Estimated touchdown time is fifteen minutes. Please remain seated until the plane has come to a complete stop and our crew is on standby to help you disembark the plane. The local time is 10 am, and ground temperature is 67 degrees Fahrenheit. On behalf of our crew, thank you for choosing to fly with us, and we hope you enjoy your stay. Have a nice day!”_

*****

It all started one dreary September morning, almost one month ago.

It was a Sunday. Next week’s school projects and homework had piled up into one unmanageable heap for Morty. And, true to his nature, Morty had waited until the last possible moment to finish them.

 That weekend saw the boy locking himself in his bedroom and pulling off a grueling all-nighter fueled by several microwaved Hot Pockets and at least five cans’ worth of a noxious concoction made with energy drinks and soda. When he emerged from his bedroom, his homework finally finished, Morty looked like death reincarnated, groaned like a decaying zombie in the Arizona desert, and smelled like a rotten pickle that had been swimming in the sewers. He might have also lost the equivalent of two hibernating possums in weight during his self-imposed exile.

So Morty could be forgiven for ignoring a sealed letter resting on the dining table in favor of rooting through the fridge in search of food that wouldn’t give him a heart attack and diabetes at the same time.

It wasn’t until Summer slipped past him, eyes puffy with sleep, mumbling, “Whose letter is that?” did the boy stop chewing on a slice of cold pizza to pick it up and really look at it.

It was an envelope, creamy white in color and sealed with a sticker that had a reflective gold “T” on its surface. It had the texture of parchment paper and looked pretty expensive. Whoever had mailed the letter certainly took their time and effort in making it.

The Smiths’ address was printed in careful block letters, as if the sender was afraid that it would be mailed to the wrong house on the slightest mistake. Decorating the upper right corner of the envelope were several stamps. Morty counted at least four too many for a letter that size.

There was something else written on the envelope’s back, obviously by the sender's hand. It was written in a spidery scrawl that barely made any sense to him. Only the words _“To Ms. Beth Sanchez”_ were legible to the boy. The rest of the words looked like chicken scratches and ink spots. It was a miracle that the letter even found its way to their house.

“That’s for mom,” Summer helpfully supplied, squinting at the undecipherable squiggles.

“I-I-I know, Summer. Y-y-you didn’t have to state the obvious.”

“I only said it because whoever wrote this has handwriting that sucks. I mean, look at it! “

“T-t-tell me about it. But, y-you know, there’s something strange about this.”

Summer swiped the letter from Morty, avoiding the greasy remains of the pizza in his other hand. “Stranger than someone sending a letter in the 21st century? Couldn’t they’ve just called mom?”

“N-no, not that. But y-yeah, that—that’s weird too. I-I-I mean, the letter’s addressed to Beth Sanchez. _Sanchez._ Mom’s been married for, what? M-m-more than ten years? Sh-shouldn’t this guy have known mom got married and changed her name?”

“That’s not weird, Morty. People can keep their maiden names if they want.”

“B-but still—”

“—And it’s really sexist for you to assume otherwise,” Summer interrupted. “I mean, you never know. Maybe mom keeps her last name sometimes for…I don’t know…reasons.”

“L-l-like what?” Morty asked, but his sister ignored him to inspect the letter more closely. She paused, letter held between two fingers, and slowly voiced her thoughts.

“Hey, Morty. I have an idea. Let’s just open this letter.”

“That—that’s a terrible idea!”

“Why not? Don’t you want to know what this person has to say?”

“Well, yes—th-that’s not the point—I-I don’t think you should do that Summer, i-i-it’s not exactly addressed to you. I-it would be a-a gross violation of mom’s privacy.”

“Oh, c’mon. It’s not like she’d mind. We’re just reading it, not throwing it into a fire or something.”

“D-don’t!” Morty made a move as if to grab the letter, but Summer retaliated by swinging it above her head.

“Just give it up, dude. I’m gonna open it.”

“I-i-it’s not yours!”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be a pussy. It’s not as if mom has anything to hide from us.”

“SUMMER!”

“What’s going on here?” a new voice asked.

The squabbling siblings broke apart at the foreign sound.

Jerry stood at the door, a stack of bills in his hand and a quizzical look on his face. He looked a bit too fresh-faced for someone who was awake at seven in the morning, but Morty always figured that his dad was a little weird.

Summer hid the letter behind her back. “Oh, hey dad. You’re up early.”

Their dad frowned at the statement. “I’m always up early. What about you guys? Why are you two so noisy?”

“We were—um—”

Morty cut in. “W-w-we were just… arguing. Over, uh, cereal. Y-yeah. That’s what w-we were doing.”

His father laughed and pointed at Summer. “Sure. And I suppose the thing that your sister is holding behind her back _isn’t_ the letter addressed to your mother, which I found with the rest of the mail and is now suspiciously missing from the table where I left it?”

Summer sulked and showed the letter to her dad. “Ugh, yeah. Okay. It’s mom’s letter. We were just fighting over what to do with it.”

“Summer w-wanted to open it!” Morty tattled. His sister glared daggers at him.

“What’s wrong with doing that?” Summer asked irritably.

“What’s wrong is that this isn’t for you,” Jerry scolded his daughter gently, plucking the slightly rumpled envelope from her grasp. “This is for your mom. Let her read it in peace.” Morty stuck out his tongue at his sister.

“Y-yeah, Summer, it isn’t for you!”

Summer rolled her eyes. “I was just curious. I don’t know why you’d be so against it, dad. Do you know who sent the letter?”

“No,” Jerry said serenely, pulling out a chair and sitting at the table.

Do you know why they sent a letter instead of calling mom?”

“No.”

“Do you know why it’s addressed to mom?”

“No. But it’s not like it’s any of our business.”

“Do you know if this person might be dangerous?”

“No…” he said again, more hesitantly this time. His hands stopped flicking through the stack of papers.

“Do you know why the fuck this person decided to send a letter instead of, I don’t know, googling mom’s name and just calling her at her office number?”

“No?” he said, phrasing it like a question this time.

“Then _how_ do you know this person isn’t some kind of lunatic or mass murderer? What if she’s in touch with someone we don’t know about?” Summer asked cheekily. “What if she’s meeting up with someone in secret? What if she’s planning to run away with someone?”

“Y-y-you’re not making any sense!” Morty protested. “Don’t listen to her, dad!”

“Think about it. Who do we know would need to contact mom through snail mail? It could be anyone.”

The moment Morty saw the look on his dad’s face, he knew it was all over. Jerry’s insecurities were an obvious Achilles’ heel that made him melt like putty in the hands of anyone who knew they could use it against him.

“We could read the letter and put it back before she notices, dad…”

Jerry didn’t take long to be persuaded. He pursed his lips, then pulled out the letter from pile. “I guess we really don’t have a choice?” he reasoned. “I mean, it _is_ for your mother’s sake. We don’t want her getting into any trouble, right? It’s better if we know what’s going on so we can help her.”

“Th-that’s such a bullshit excuse! Y-y-you just want to know if mom’s seeing anyone on the side!”

“That’s not true!” his father retorted. “I was just—oh damn it. I need to know, alright? What if your mom’s talking to someone she shouldn’t?” Before his son could stop him, Jerry gently peeled off the sticker sealing the envelope and pulled out the two sheets of neatly folded paper inside it.

 The letter was thankfully typewritten and not scribbled in the hideous handwriting that covered the back of the envelope. Unable to help themselves, the two siblings huddled around Jerry to read it.

 

 

**September 10, 20XX**

Dear Ms. Beth Sanchez,

 

Let me preface this letter with an apology. I didn’t want you to hear about this news from someone else. I also didn’t want you to receive a sanitized version of the message through some uncaring third party. You deserve much better than that. My friend would have most certainly wanted me to be the one to tell you first. He always said it was better to rip off the band-aid, so to speak. I’m sorry for being the bearer of the news I’m about to tell you.

I had quite the dilemma over whether to send this letter to you in the first place. No doubt that there would be an informant assigned to you who will send you a notice. We have never met, and it would be highly unusual for you to trust a stranger in the first place. You have no reason to believe me until someone else, perhaps someone more reliable, confirms my story. I still think it would be worth a try though, and that is why you now hold this letter in your hands.

By now you’re probably beginning to wonder who I am. Or why I’m writing to you. It seems unfair to leave it as a mystery, but these two questions are not important right now. This news does not concern me. It concerns my friend, whom you indeed know. You are his daughter, after all.

My friend was your father, Rick Sanchez. And the reason why I am writing to you is because he had passed away a couple of days before I wrote this letter. I will not spare you the details or mince any words: he did not die of a disease or ailment. He did not die as a result of an accident, nor did he die on one of those dangerous escapades he is so fond of. He died because he was murdered.

There is an ongoing investigation of the circumstances of his death. Suffice it to say that the local police are working their hardest to bring the perpetrator to justice, though progress has been slow. The town that Rick had lived and died in for almost a decade has not seen a homicide in many years. They are woefully unprepared for this situation.

Ms. Sanchez, I have only heard of you from Rick in passing. I understand that he last saw you more than twenty years ago. But from what little I had gleaned from him, he thought of you fondly, and regretted not being able to see you all these years. Even if he would never admit it, I believe he would have wanted you to be at his funeral. It was hard to get ahold of your address, but I managed. A funeral has not been held for him yet, because we were trying to trace his last remaining relatives and friends: you.

I understand if you want nothing to do with Rick. I understand if your first thought is to ignore this letter entirely. Your father left before you could truly get to know him. He is virtually a stranger to you. But I couldn’t go ahead with his funeral arrangements without giving you the chance to be there.

If you do decide that you want to attend his funeral, I will gladly provide for your trip and accommodations. His funeral will be held in Travverswick Cemetery, in the town he made his home, as per his last will and request. The exact address and map of the location is enclosed in this letter.

Please call me on or before September 18, 20XX at the latest or I shall proceed with the funeral arrangements without you. My contact number is (XXX)555-0143.

 

Regards,

Robin Swift

 

 

The dining room was still and silent for a heartbeat.

“Mom’s dad… our grandpa… is dead?”

“He was _murdered?_ ” Jerry exclaimed in shock. “Who just tells someone that over a letter?”

“D-dad, look again, i-i-it says this Robin guy didn’t even know our address before. I-I-I don’t think he could just pop over to our house a-and break the news, you know. I-I don’t think he had much of a choice.”

“Huh. You know, I never met Beth’s dad. She told me that he left when she was only six. Shame that I’d never get to meet him.” Jerry peered at the other paper, which contained very specific directions to a place called ‘Travverswick’ and a detailed map of the town. “We would’ve got along. Your mother said he loved science too, like me.”

“Sure y-you do, dad.” Morty rolled his eyes. “Mom still tells stories about grandpa.  I-I think she still misses him. She’d want to attend his funeral.”

“Wait. September 18? Isn’t that today?” Summer asked. “Mom has to decide like, right now.”

“We’ll wait for your mom to wake up, then we’ll break the news to her slowly,” their father decided. “This is a sensitive issue. We need time to prepare her to process it.”

“N-n-not a lot of time,” Morty replied, pointing at the shadow by the door. The sounds of feet pattering towards the dining room grew louder. “Mom’s coming.”

“Huh? Shit!” Jerry scrambled to stuff the papers into the envelope.

Beth walked into the dining room, completely unaware of the conversation happening in the room. She wore a bright smile on her face as she greeted her stunned family. “I hope you guys are hungry, I’m making pancakes for breakfast. I—what are you guys doing? Why are you looking at me like that?”

The three Smiths gawped at her like she had grown another head. Summer coughed and blurted out an excuse, disappearing as fast as her legs could carry her. Jerry opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again, only to blabber incomprehensively. Morty refused to meet his mother’s eyes, hiding behind his father while he waited for Jerry to stop delaying the inevitable.

Beth pinched the bridge of her nose. “Jerry, I understood exactly zero of what you’ve said so far. Zero. Morty, help me out here. What’s going on?”

 Her son froze like a deer in headlights. “W-w-well, mom,” Morty stammered, “we were just—w-we— fuck. No more excuses. Mom, there—there’s something you need to see.”

Morty exchanged glances with Jerry, unwilling to lie to his mother. _Give it,_ he mouthed. His father wordlessly handed over the envelope to Beth. Raising an eyebrow, she took the letter from him and started to read.

A blur of emotions flitted past Beth’s face, almost too fast for Morty to see. First was curiosity, then confusion, to impassivity, anger, and a mix of dread and panic before settling on an all-consuming anguish that cast a dark cloud onto Beth’s entire being.

Beth went through the five stages of grief in less time than it took for Morty to realize that this news might finally be the one to break his mother. He had seen her stuff the still-beating hearts of dying horses back into their bloody chest cavities, endure the childish temper tantrums of Jerry with nothing more than a straight face, and work herself to death without a single complaint. But nothing, _nothing,_ in Morty’s fourteen years of existence, had managed to crack his mother’s impenetrable façade so easily.

Until now.

Jerry and Morty were deathly silent as Beth set down the piece of paper on the table with a stony face. Her hand was quivering violently and she was biting her lower lip so hard it drew blood. She didn’t move for nearly a minute, leaning over the table with her head bowed over the letter.

Beth whimpered, choked-off sounds that she tried and failed to muffle. The first tear dripped onto the paper, then another, then another, until it was a continuous stream running down her cheeks. The tears bled onto the ink and turned its words into ugly grey blotches. Beth slowly sank to her knees, her forehead pressed onto the crook of her elbow as she released all of her despair in an uncontrollable wail.

Her husband stood to the side awkwardly as Beth’s whimpers turned into full blown sobs. Unable to bear watching his mother suffer, Morty crouched down and hugged her tightly.

“I-I’m sorry mom,” he said as sympathetically as he could, rubbing comforting circles on her back. “We’re here if you need us to be. A-and if it gets rough, we’ll always support you. Me a-a-and Summer and dad, w-we didn’t know grandpa Rick, but I-I’m sure that we’d have loved him just as much a-as you i-if we did. W-we’re going to do whatever it takes to get y-y-you back on your feet. S-so don’t worry, mom.”

 Morty continued to embrace his mother, refusing to let go until he was absolutely sure that she was okay. Beth’s sniffling eventually subsided, leaving behind a heavy air of melancholy that hung around her.

It was a start.

Beth wiped her eyes and stood up. “I'm okay. You don't need to worry, sweetie,” she mumbled, giving a forced smile to Morty. 

“So...now what?” Jerry asked, finally finding his voice.

“This Robin guy. I’m going to say yes.” She hesitated. “If I say yes, can you all go with me? I don’t want to do this alone.”

Jerry nodded enthusiastically. “Of course, honey! Anything for you!” Beth kissed his cheek gratefully, leaving the room to hunt for the telephone.

Once she was out of earshot, Jerry turned to his son and pumped his fist. “Awesome! Family vacation! Have you seen the map in the letter? We’re going to this weird place called Travverswick for the funeral! It’s pretty far from here. I should plan the itinerary!”

Morty side-eyed Jerry. “W-while you’re doing that, dad, I-I’ll be making sure mom is okay,” he replied sarcastically.

“Great idea. Oh, and go take a shower, Morty. You reek.”

And the rest is history. After a brief chat with Rick’s enigmatic friend, the Smiths fixed their documents, packed their bags, and headed off to the airport, into a tiny plane that took them far, far away from their normal life. Their destination was a tiny town, full of odd people and interesting places that had more to them that meets the eye. In the town, where the unusual make their home, hides a secret that just might turn one ordinary boy’s world upside down.

Off to the unknown.

Off to adventure and mystery.

Off to Travverswick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins! Next chapter: the Smiths finally arrive in Travverswick, where a curiously familiar face will greet them.
> 
>  
> 
> Hey guys! Drop by on [tumblr](https://rickandmortygetschwifty.tumblr.com) if you wanna talk about all things Rick and Morty! Don't worry, I won't bite... unless you want me to?


	2. The Newcomers from a Distant Land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Smith family finally arrive in Travverswick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to  GhostyGooGirl for betaing this chapter!

_“Wait.”_

_“Yes?”_

_“So, this family gets the news that the grandpa’s died, and they just go off to some weird town in the middle of nowhere?”_

_“To attend his funeral, yes.”_

_“Did the cops catch the killer yet?”_

_“No, sweetie.”_

_“So the killer’s still on the loose? Aren’t they worried? Why not, y’know… just skip the funeral, make an excuse? It would’ve been safer for them.”_

_“’Make an excuse?’ Oh, like what you do when you don’t want to go to school?”_

_“Hey! I-I don’t do that!”_

_“Don’t worry, I’m just kidding. Back to the story— they didn’t do that because he’s family, dear. Even if he died on the other side of the universe, the mother would’ve dragged her family across the vast void of space to reach him.”_

* * *

 

The view from above was majestic.

A small plane soared above a picturesque and serene countryside landscape that could have been ripped straight from a postcard. Lush green shrubs dotted the ground while grey squirrels played amongst stalks of grass. Tall trees lined the edges of a stream with crystal clear waters in neat rows.  Its music was the quiet songs of woodland creatures and its backdrop was rolling hills as far as the eye could see.

The sky was an overcast grey that always came after a light rain. A cool breeze swept through the branches of maple trees, disturbing their rust painted leaves and carrying loose ones on a journey through cotton-soft clouds. The smell of dew and freshly mown grass laced the air with their pleasant aromas, its scent calming to even the most frazzled of travelers. Warm red and orange hues scorched the foliage as they proclaimed summer’s departure and the impending embrace of winter.

The tranquil scenery was only interrupted by the hard and unforgiving asphalt that made up the runway of an airport, seemingly isolated from any other signs of civilization. There was no gag-inducing smells of rotten garbage and car smoke, no loud chatter of human beings, no ugly buildings or poorly kept roads or houses. Just a tiny, three-story airport terminal that seemed to blend in seamlessly with its surroundings.

 As the plane touched down smoothly onto the runway, it scattered the startled deer grazing in the nearby grasslands. Other animals disappeared at the sound of the low rumble from its engines. Airport personnel stationed outside the building quickly got to work, latching a wheeled metal staircase to the plane’s exit, opening the luggage compartment, and loading the bags onto a trolley.

The Smiths were one of the first to leave the plane. Jerry all but skipped down the stairs, leaving behind his exasperated family to get a first glimpse of the scenery. Summer followed, rolling her eyes at her father’s antics. Morty toddled after his sister with difficulty, his hands full with Snowball’s cage. And poor Beth emerged after several people had made their way down, unenthusiastic about finally being able to stretch her legs after an hours-long flight.

Jerry’s phone was whipped out as soon as its owner’s feet touched solid ground, snapping photos left and right. Morty resisted the urge to facepalm as he tugged on the sleeve of his dad’s windbreaker.

“Geez, dad, c-can’t you wait until we get to Travverswick before you start taking pictures?”

Jerry barely glanced at his son before burying his nose in his phone again. “And miss this view? No way! This is going to look great in our family album!”

The view from the airport runway was nice, but if they didn’t hurry the fuck up, they’d be stuck lining up behind everyone else. Morty wasn’t in the mood to wait again. He zipped his jacket up to his neck, shivering from the chill bite of the autumn air. “C’mon, everyone else is getting their bags. W-w-we’re getting left behind. N-not to mention that we really want to go inside.”

“Yeah,” Summer interjected. “Dad, I think it’s getting colder out here.”

“Just a few more,” her father pleaded, stubbornly clinging onto his phone and taking even more pictures until Beth put a hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s go,” she said simply.

“But Beth—”

“Jerry.”

Jerry frowned but relented, pocketing his phone. “Fine.”

The building seemed even smaller on the inside, packed full of people either trying to do their jobs or get to their next destination. Security guards shepherded lost passengers to the boarding area, crew members sipped watery coffee while waiting for the next flight, and entire families slept in uncomfortable metal benches as smooth jazz played in the background.  A gaggle of tourists loitering near a souvenir shop laughed raucously, earning them many glares from nearby people.

How the airport buzzed with life when it was sitting in the middle of wilderness was a complete mystery to Morty. Travverswick was hours away. Where the hell did all these people come from? Was this the only airport being used for a dozen other towns? Where did they live? And most importantly, could someone flying back to Seattle please give him their ticket, because he’s spent a grand total of ten minutes in this airport and he already wanted to go home?

The Smith family snaked through a maze of people as they tried to get to the baggage claim area. The rest of the passengers were already clustered around the only luggage carousel in the room, pushing and jostling each other as they fetched bags circling around on the conveyor almost painfully slowly.

Yeah, Morty wasn’t even going to touch that crowd with a ten-foot-pole. They looked more rabid than starving raccoons at a garbage buffet. The throng of people was about four bodies thick, and there was zero possibility that they could penetrate that rabid mob until it thinned out.

Morty watched as his father attempted to elbow his way into the front of the crowd in a valiant but ultimately futile attempt to reach the carousel. The entire family groaned in unison when Jerry was inevitably pushed back by a burly man in a brown leather jacket.

 “Wait for ‘ur turn,” the man snarled in a thick accent that Morty couldn’t place, face twisted into a glower that could melt lead. “The rest o’ us were here before you.”

“There’s no line,” Jerry pointed out.

“So?”

Jerry gulped. “Look, mister, we just want to get our bags. In fact, I can see them over your shoulder. Do you mind if we just get them?”

“Yes, I fucking mind!” Leather Jacket Man barked. He turned to fully face Jerry, his intimidating frame a full head taller than the other man’s.

“Uhhh…”

_Seriously, dad? You’re just making it worse._

Jerry Smith continued to plead with the unmoving man, the latter’s face darkening as he heard more of his excuses.  His dad sure had an addiction to getting himself into stupid situations. How had he stayed alive before his mom was there to rescue him? Unwilling to see his father get into yet another pointless fight, Morty set down Snowball’s carrier and pulled out his phone, turning off airplane mode and bracing himself for the barrage of messages from his friend.

 Dippin’ Sauce  
  
**Today** 8:35 am  
Morty  
Morty hey dude are you guys there yet?  
?  
**Today** 9:10 am  
???  
**Today** 9:43 am  
MORTY  
HEY MOOOOOORTY  
**Today** 10:04 am  
MORTYMORTYMORTYMORTY  
MORTMORTMORTYYYYYYY  
YOU THERE  
oh my god. Didn’t I tell you I couldn’t use my phone? I was in a plane  
Yeah but I want to know if you’re in Travverswick yet?  
I wouldn’t be messaging you right now if we weren’t???  
You’re even more excited about me being here than I am

“Hey! Put me down!” someone yelled. A dozen passers-by swiveled their heads at the source of the voice.

The boy glanced at his father, who was now being held by the scruff of his neck by Leather Jacket Man in a pose hilariously reminiscent of the scene with Simba and Rafiki in the Lion King. Summer and Beth were currently trying to convince Leather Jacket Man to drop Jerry to no avail. In fact, it seemed to piss off the man even more.

“Okay, I think we all need to calm down. Can you please just calm down and we can talk like two rational adults?” Jerry begged. The man tightened his hold on Jerry’s collar, radiating distaste as Jerry’s pleas became whimpers.

Morty’s phone buzzed, stealing away his attention once more.

 

I can’t help it, I’ve always wanted to go to Travverswick  
  
Can we switch places? If my mom wasn’t so down in the dumps we would’ve skipped the funeral. I mean, we barely knew the guy.  
  
But mom’s dad was special to her so that’s why we’re here I guess. This whole trip’s gonna be such a bore  
  
Dude! There’s lots of reasons why you should be excited!  
  
Oh here we go  
  
What?  
  
Are you gonna tell me again that Travverswick is a “beacon of paranormal activity” and I should “keep an eye out for supernatural occurences?”  
  
Yes!!! Travverswick is a lot like a town I go to every summer, and there’s a lot of activity in places like those.  
  
In fact Travverswick has lots of places you should keep an eye out for.  
  
No. NO. I know where this is headed. No more stories pleeeeease  
  
They’re not stories, they’re my firsthand accounts  
  
Sure they are  
  
Like that time you told me about leprechauns who dress up like vampires. LEPRECHAUNS. That’s a 100% true, honest-to-god, legit sighting that everyone should believe  
  
Do give me more evidence for your firsthand accounts?  
  
Okay fine then you party pooper. Change of subject. How’s your mom doing?  
  
Doing better I guess. She’s talking now. But I think it’s more about the fact that dad’s about to get beaten to a pulp than her wanting to chat

Beaten to a pulp???  
  
My dad pissed off a guy when he tried to get our bags. He had it coming, though  
  
God this trip just started and it’s already in the trash. I’m think im gonna pass out for a couple of hours once we get to Travverswick  
  
Wait you can’t go to sleep yet!  
  
Why the fuck not  
  
Didn’t you say you had an assignment for English class? The one your teacher told you to do while you were “on vacation” to make up for the two weeks you’ll be gone? Shouldn’t you be writing it?  
  
FUCK I FORGOT ABOUT THAT.  
  
I’m supposed to write something about a significant experience???  
  
Well I have an idea. Why not write a journal about your stay in Travverswick?  
  
You and your obsession with journals istg  
  
I’ll think about it. I can still put it off for a few days  
  
Don’t procrastinate! I remember what you told me about that time you submitted the science project a whole week late!  
  
I can’t help it, it’s hard to get motivated when I’m not in the mood to do an assignment  
  
Maybe this will motivate you  
  
[](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/36/7c/0d/367c0d7f418bd9c1bc66f1139c6be077.png)  
  
 WHERE DID YOU GET THAT PICTURE   
  
Your mom’s facebook page? It’s not that hard to find, I’m surprised you didn’t ask her to take it down.  
  
DELETE THAT  
  
No  
  
I'm keeping it. to motivate you.  
  
AND BY MOTIVATE YOU MEAN BLACKMAIL  
  
Yes.  
  
DELETE IT. DELETE IT RIGHT THE FUCK NOW OR I WILL KILL YOU IN YOUR SLEEP  
  
We’re internet friends, you haven’t even met me in person yet.

Your threats mean nothing to me.  
  
mwahahaha

DIPPER!!!

Morty clicked his tongue in annoyance when his asshole friend stopped replying. Somewhere in California, Dipper was wearing a shit-eating grin thinking about all the ways he could blackmail Morty.  If there was one thing Morty knew about him, it was the fact that he got pigheaded when he wanted someone to do something. The boy was about to fire back another scathing text to his friend when an iron grip encircled his wrist.

“Cheese and crackers!” Morty blurted, almost dropping his phone in fright as his sister shoved Snowball’s cage in his other hand and tugged him out of the room. Summer broke into a run, practically dragging him behind her.

“Mom’s got the bags, Dad’s got away without a scratch, and I have you. Let’s get out of here!” Summer panted, her hand in a bruising grip around Morty’s arm.

“W-w-what’s happening?”

“Dad punched the guy then ran away to God-knows-where. A lot of people saw, and long story short we have airport security on our ass!”

“Oh geez!” Morty cried as six angry looking men in guard uniforms stomped toward them.

They only had a few seconds before they were toast. Thinking fast, Morty pulled his sister into a thick mass of living bodies, artfully dodging their pursuers’ line of sight. Five of the security guards ran past them, oblivious to the two siblings that had melted into the crowd. Morty didn’t even have a chance to catch his breath when his sister yanked him in the opposite direction, again running for their dear lives.

The two had countless near-misses with airport security and several collisions with annoyed passengers before they finally located their parents, tucked away in a secluded bookstore on the third level of the airport. As Summer and Morty entered the bookstore, the cashier raised an eyebrow and jerked a thumb at their mom and dad. The two parents’ voices were raised in a heated argument, the walls of the bookstore amplifying their every word. Summer and Morty smiled sheepishly at the teenage girl and offered no explanation as they brushed past her.

“Hey, we found you!” Summer exclaimed as they neared their feuding parents.

“Ow!” Jerry yelped when Beth flicked his ear in annoyance.

“What were you thinking? We don’t have time for this! We’re supposed to meet up with Robin near the taxi stand. How are we supposed to go there when people are looking for us?” Beth chided.

“I’m sorry, honey.” Jerry rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “How was I supposed to know that guy was going to overreact? It wasn’t my fault.”

“He wasn’t overreacting when you punched him in the face,” Summer added.

“Y-y-yeah, dad, thanks for messing everything up!”

“I DID NOT!”

“Try telling that to airport security!”

“Everyone shut up,” Beth interrupted, pinching the bridge of her nose, “and calm down. I’m calling Robin. We might have to camp in here for a few hours while we wait for airport security to give up trying to find us. If he’s waiting for us out there, we should at least have the courtesy of calling him.” Beth flipped out her phone without waiting for a reply from her family, fingers flying over the screen as she sent a hurried text to Robin. The Smiths quieted as they heard the merry trill of Beth’s ringtone, signifying an incoming call from their mysterious sponsor. With one last shared look with Jerry, Beth hesitantly pressed the Accept Call button.

_“Hello?”_ an unsettlingly monotone but still pleasant voice asked.

Beth placed a finger to her lips in a silent _please be quiet_ message to her family. “Hi, Mr. Swift. We’re… kind of in a predicament in the airport. We can’t leave the area in the next few hours. It’s okay if you can’t drive us to Travverswick. We’ll just find a way to get there.”

_“There’s no need for that,”_ he replied. _“It would be doing a great disservice to my friend if I were to leave you here. I can wait.”_ There was a short pause. _“If I may ask, what is the predicament that you are in right now that has disallowed you from leaving?”_

“My husband was being an idiot.” Beth shot Jerry a glare when he opened his mouth, deflating him before he had a chance to protest. “He shoved someone while he was trying to get our bags, got into a fight with him, and someone apparently called security. We’re holed up in the bookstore at the west wing of the building.”

_“Ah, I know the place you speak of. I have a simple solution to your problem. There is an exit located somewhat close to the bookstore you mentioned. I can meet you there, and we can leave without attracting any attention.”_

“What about the security guards?”

_“No need to worry about that. Oh, and can you tell your husband not to punch any more strangers? In Travverswick, we consider that a ‘dick move.’”_

 

*****

 

Robin Swift… was not who Morty had expected him to be. At all.

The man was eloquent and polite in his letter, and seemed agreeable enough when spoken to over the phone. He even stayed on the line, giving directions to the Smith family and never losing his patience even when they took three separate wrong turns. Mr. Swift was one of the calmest and most understanding people Morty has ever met, and the Smiths haven’t even seen his face yet. He hadn’t struck Morty as a man who would be anything other than completely normal, if not just a tad dull if you were the kind who judged people by their voice. Morty was expecting a modestly dressed old man with a charming small-town demeanor and a ‘hello, neighbor!’ attitude. A perfect foil and levelheaded companion to the wild storm that was his grandfather.

Instead they got a man who looked like he was in his mid-thirties, with unkempt hair that looked like it hadn’t been washed in years and a blank face than didn’t show any expression as he chatted with the family. He wore an outfit so ridiculous it was turning heads at the airport, and even got the attention of a guard stationed at the exit. What sane person wears an outfit that consists of a sleeveless white t-shirt, a tiny brown skirt that barely covered the knees, and matching yellow boots and gloves in October? And is that an eagle talon tied to a string around his neck?

Morty’s heart thumped wildly as the guard gave them a brisk once-over, then turned his attention to Robin. The guard tilted the brim of his hat. “’Morning, Birdperson,” he greeted with a thick Russian accent. “What brings you all the way here?”

_Birdperson?_

“Bringing the Smith family to Rick’s house.”

The guard’s tone turned somber. “Rick, eh? So this must be his daughter, then?” he asked, jerking a thumb at Beth. “We didn’t get along well, but never seeing your daughter again after leaving for so many years is a fate I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. Poor bastard didn’t even get a chance to meet her children. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” Beth replied awkwardly.

“And for that, I will allow you to leave, even though I have just received a call from my superiors to apprehend a man wearing a windbreaker with one adult companion and two children on grounds of assault.”

Jerry coughed. “Well, that’s… um. Okay, we really have to be going. Bye…?”

“My name is Jaguar. I’ll be seeing you at Rick’s funeral.” Jaguar quirked his lip. “Have a nice stay in Travverswick.” The man stepped aside to let the Smith family through, and they went on their way.

 

*****

 

 

 

 

**Introduction to Travverswick**

If this is your first time visiting this lovely town, you’re in for a treat of a lifetime! The town of Travverswick full of family-friendly attractions that’ll surely be worth a look or two. From cozy mom and pop shops, to one of the most unique amusement parks in the country, children will have no shortage of fun places to go to. Travverswick is also blessed with beautiful natural landscapes that’d take your breath away. Bringing a camera on your trip is a MUST if you want to take advantage of the countless picture-perfect views that Travverswick provides!

 

**History of Travverswick**  

Founded in the 1800s by the eccentric Thomas Travverswick, the town boasts a curious origin. It is said that Travverswick was founded in the exact place it sits in today for religious reasons. Thomas Travverswick was the head of a little-known Christian denomination with only a few hundred adherents. To escape from the prejudice and discrimination from members of other Christian sects, T. Travverswick established the beginnings of the town and invited many of his followers to live with him. And thus, the town of Travverswick was born; enduring the test of time, growing in population and becoming a popular tourist destination!

Today, the town welcomes all peoples of every race, creed, nationality, and yes, religion! The town is home to a diverse group of people from all sorts of backgrounds, and you might be surprised how unique the people of Travverswick can be!

 

**Travverswick’s Notable Attractions**

Plumbus Museum

Located in Grumbo Drive, the Plumbus Museum is home to many wonderful artifacts found around the globe.  Many of the items housed in the museum have origins that have been lost to time, and yet hold significant cultural or historical value. Exhibits and collections range from local and international finds, natural or manmade relics, quirky art and technology, and much more. And of course, no visit to the museum is complete without looking at its centerpiece! Marvel at the wondrous Plumbus, a strange artifact that has been found in no other than our beloved Travverswick! Many a visitor have tried and failed to figure out what it is and what it’s used for… it remains a mystery to this very day. Spooky!

Anatomy Park

From the genius intellects of Mr. Rick Sanchez and Dr. Xenon Bloom, Anatomy Park is the biggest (and most educational!) amusement park themed after the human body. The park is an excellent way to entertain your kids while letting them learn all sorts of fun facts about the human body. Their most famous ride, the Pirates of the Pancreas, is a huge hit with both kids and adults alike. You can’t miss it! Fair warning though:  Anatomy Park can get a little crowded at peak season, so be sure to book your tickets beforehand to avoid those pesky lines!

BirdWorld Aviary

A classic tourist spot, BirdWorld Aviary has been around for almost as long as the town of Travverswick itself. Established by a family who felt an affinity for their creatures, it was intended as a temporary sanctuary for migratory species of birds who needed respite from their long journey. Since then, BirdWorld Aviary has expanded to include dozens more species of birds, many of which are critically endangered and have made the aviary their permanent home. Go birdwatching with the entire family and gaze in awe as the feathered friends of BirdWorld take to the sky in a spectacular display.

 

**Great Fun for the Whole Family!**  

Whether you’re the type to go sightseeing, enjoy a slice of culture and history, or just want a walk in the park, this town has something in store for you. Don’t be shy to talk to the locals! Most of them have been living in the town their entire lives, and are used to helping out tourists in need. Have fun, and enjoy your stay in Travverswick!

 

 

_Excerpt taken from **The Definitive Visitor’s Guide to Travverswick:** **Fifth Edition** , by Donna Gueterman (pp. 21-22)_

 

*****

 

It was a two-hour drive to Travverswick from the airport. Morty was starting to sincerely hate travelling.  He had been stuffed into a tiny plane, then chased by an angry mob, then stuffed _again_ into a tiny sedan that could barely hold all four Smiths, a sleeping Snowball’s cage, plus a Mr. Swift.  Not to mention all their luggage, which couldn’t fit in the trunk so the Smiths were forced to lay their bags across their laps. Morty had to roll down a window so the claustrophobia he was feeling didn’t hit him so hard.

They’d just traded one tin can for another one. His poor legs needed a break.

At least he was sitting shotgun. The rest of the family were sandwiched at the back, mostly because Summer lost to a game of rock paper scissors with Morty and Beth had subtly implied to her husband that if he didn’t sit with her, she’d stop talking to him for a whole week. Jerry got the hint and sat beside her, letting her rest her head on his shoulder as they drove to their destination.

 He took out his phone, scrolling through his contacts and hovering his thumb over Dipper’s number. He shook his head and pressed the off button. Dipper will probably parade around that ridiculous picture he had stolen from Facebook again. Morty wasn’t in the mood to start a fight with him. Why didn’t Morty ask his mom to take it down? When did she even take it? Morty didn’t even know his own face could do that. It looked like a cross between a derp and a duck face, and it looked twice as unattractive as either.

The sedan zipped down an empty highway at a leisurely pace, its driver letting the occupants get an eyeful of the gorgeous view of Travverswick in the distance. Robin hadn’t spoken to the family since they had all piled into the car; too engrossed with driving and listening to a strange medley of songs that all managed to shoehorn bird chirps and tweets in their melodies. The man had only one hand on the steering wheel, humming softly to himself as miles and miles of open grassland sped past the car. Robin must’ve been used to the view—even Summer, as disinterested as she was by the idea of visiting the town, had her nose practically pressed to the window, _ooh-ing_ and _ahh-ing_ as she took in the breathtaking scenery. Robin barely spent a glance at the sight before settling his eyes comfortably on the road ahead of them.

Morty could see rows of houses nestled in a small valley, roads and streets spilling out to connect the structures in one intricate spider web. A river ran through the middle of the residential area, dividing it evenly in two. Dense forests surrounded the town like one living blanket. Further away, he could make out the beginnings of a beautiful ocean and a pebbly white sand beach. A lonely lighthouse stood at the edge of a rocky cliff overlooking the choppy blue waters. To the east of the river was what looked to be a busy amusement park, the many attractions illuminated in bright neon colors and lights. The park’s size seemed to dwarf what looked to be the town center.

The car soon passed a sign labelled **WELCOME TO TRAVVERSWICK** , the forested roads gradually thinning into green plains. Thank God. Just a little more of this hell.

“H-h-hey, Mr. Robin, can I change the station?” Morty cautiously inquired, pointing to the car radio.

“You may. And please, call me Birdperson.”

“Uuuhh… can I ask why you want to be called Birdperson?” Morty couldn’t resist asking. “I-I-I mean, even the guy at the airport called you that.”

Instead of getting irritated by his intrusive question, Robin actually smiled. “It is the title that members of family has taken on ever since we have provided shelter for our bird brethren. Our tradition dictates that the one who holds ownership of BirdWorld Aviary be called Birdperson. My family has upheld this for many generations, and I am the latest in a line of proud Birdpeople.”

_Okaaaaaay.  That’s…not weird._ Morty twisted the knob of the car radio to stop himself from blurting out something stupid.

_“Bzzt— and now, for the number one hit on Billboard Top 100_ (No! How many times has he heard that at school?) _—bzzt—hate to break it to you, Diane, but he’s not a keeper_ (Who the fuck tunes in to the radio to listen to some stranger’s problems?) _—bzzt—aaaand iiiiiiiiiii, will always loooooove you_ (Oh shit, change it before dad wakes up you idiot) _—bzzt—it’s a cloudy day in Travverswick today. Expect temperatures ranging from_ (Is there anything here worth listening to?) _—bzzt—”_ Morty stopped as the first few bars of ‘Everybody Wants to Rule the World’ filled the car, the classic song a welcome respite from the silence that had fallen over them.

Robin—ahem, Birdperson— drove the car off into a smaller road, finally leaving the highway. The Travverswick townhouses reappeared, its residents now visible to the Smith family.  Pink plastic flamingoes and other lawn ornaments decorated the neatly clipped lawns of the houses.  Smiling neighbors holding cups of hot coffee laughed while they sat at. A pretty normal sight, Morty had thought, until he passed a horde of teenagers wearing shirts that proclaimed **I went to the Plumbus Museum** with a picture of the strangest thing Morty’s ever seen. What _is_ that??? It looked like a sex toy made by someone who clearly never used one to get off.

“We’re almost there,” Robin— _Birdperson’s_ voice said, slowing down the car as they approached a corner.

“W-w-where are we going to stay again?” Morty asked. “Are we going to stay with you?”

Birdperson shook his head. He was driving much more slowly now, passing by houses that were larger and spaced further apart than the last neighborhood. “No. My home is far too small for all of us. And I doubt your mother would allow it. We have all sorts of birds at my house as well. My companions are prone to defecating on many surfaces, including beds.”

Morty winced. “So w-w-where are we going to stay then?”

Birdperson killed the engine, looking outside with a fond smile on his face. “Here,” he said. “Your grandfather’s home.”

They had stopped in front of twin iron gates at the end of a narrow road, the metal fence tall and imposing compared to the short wooden ones most of the locals favored. Adorning the top of the metal gates were sharp and imposing spikes that warded off any would-be intruders. It seemed to scream “keep out!” in sharp contrast to the picture-perfect American homes that the other residents of Travverswick lived in. Maybe his grandfather was as peculiar as his mom said he was. Just the first impression of this house told Morty that it stuck out like a sore thumb.

“Grandpa lived here?”Morty could make out a house through the grates of the iron fence. Standing at least three stories tall, with grey shingled roofs, and an off-white exterior, it was classically elegant; yet was atypical in the sense that it still managed to look quite modern with its sharp angles and monochrome colors. Its immaculately clean windows gleamed in the afternoon sun.  The house’s front porch was wide enough to house a side table and a bench swing, an inviting hangout for the whole Smith family. A marble fountain sat in the middle of the home’s lush front yard filled with shrubs and rosebushes. Pine trees circled the edges of the property, completing the pretty picture. 

Birdperson nodded. “Rick lived in Travverswick for over ten years. He loved this town. He told me he had visited many countries, and many faraway lands. But this was the only place that he had stayed in for longer than a month. And now it is his final resting place. This house must have held many memories of him, if he had decided to gift it to Beth.” He unlocked the car door with a click. “Morty, would you be so kind as to help me with the gates? The gate’s hinges are rusty, and it takes some effort to open them.”

 Moving into Rick’s house was uneventful. Birdperson parks the car in the driveway, the Smith family climb out of the car, but not before Jerry snaps a hundred more photos, much to Beth’s chagrin. Summer headed straight into the house, eager to stake a claim on the biggest bedroom she could find. Morty stayed behind to help Birdperson unload the bags from the trunk.

Except…

As Morty lifted out the last bag, his other hand on a leash barely restraining an over excited Snowball, a gust of freezing wind blew over his body. Morty trembled, feeling the cold seep into his bones even with several layers of fabric separating his body from the air. His hands automatically moved to the zipper of his jacket, only to find it zipped up to his neck. _So fucking cold._ Morty turned his eyes to the source of the wind. It seemed to be coming from the direction of the ocean.

A blue blur darted among the thick trunks of the pine trees, too fast for him to see.

 Morty’s blood turned to ice.

“H-hell-hello?” he called out nervously. Snowball stopped barking and looked at him, probably wondering what had gotten his owner so frazzled.

Nothing happened.

“I-I-I’m warning you, no one better sneak up on me!”

Still nothing happened. The pine trees’ needles swayed in the gentle wind, paying no notice to the marginally frightened boy and his confused terrier. Morty’s grip on the duffel bag loosened, the instinct to bolt in the other direction becoming more appealing.

“Morty! Get in here! Take a load of this place, it’s ginormous!” Jerry called, successfully capturing the boy’s attention. For the third and last time, Morty checked the trees for any sign of life.

Morty...?

Nothing. _Why am I scaring myself? I’m an idiot,_ Morty chuckled. It must’ve been a hallucination from the jetlag. He definitely needed a rest. Ridding himself of the momentary terror, the boy adjusted his grip on the bag and walked down the driveway, into the arms of his waiting family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who was that??? Just kidding, we all know who it is.


End file.
